


Nyo!DenNor One Shot Challenge

by elismarije



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elismarije/pseuds/elismarije
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 Nyo!DenNor one shots, because they deserve some love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nyo!DenNor One Shot Challenge

One Shot 1  
Dancing

Norway had always been a natural dancer. Every bit of her was slender, elegant, coordinated - everything a dancer should be. Her body spun and leaped with fluid movements, allowing her to execute moves that even professionals found tricky with a grace that seemed almost effortless. Her body responded to the rhythms of music as if the two were long-time friends, and she moved without even thinking, or so it seemed.  
Denmark envied this about her. Despite all her boasting and bragging about being the best at everything, as she was the big sister of the Nordics, even centuries of practice could not cure her of her innate clumsiness. When she wasn't tripping over her own two feet, the Dane was left wondering why even the simplest flick of the wrist didn't look as graceful when done by her, as opposed to when it was done by Norway. It just wasn't fair, the Dane felt, that for all her hard work, she still couldn't compare to the Norwegian's natural ability.  
Every time she watched her friend, Denmark couldn't decide whether she wanted to dance like Norway, or to dance with Norway. Anyone who got to dance with someone of her caliber was blessed, whether it be in a group or as a pair. However, in order to dance with someone like Norway, one would have to be as good as Norway.  
Therein lied Denmark's problem.  
Throughout the ages, she had seen Norway master every new style of dance the time period had to offer. Folk dancing? Duh, it was as if she was born doing it. Ballroom dancing? She enchanted other guests as if she were Cinderella. Also among her repertoire were baroque dance, waltzes, and even swing dance! She'd mastered them all! But no matter what style of dance was popular, Denmark was never good enough to be her partner.  
Although, just being able to watch her friend dance was enough to placate Denmark. It wasn't enough to make her truly ecstatic - to do that, Denmark would have to make Norway her girlfriend - but it was enough to keep her content for the time being. Watching her dance was like a drug, in the sense that it thrilled Denmark and made every little detail interesting and fun. The thrill made up for the, 'withdrawal' that occurred a few days after, as the Dane continuously and obsessively reflected upon her crush's skill.  
This was the reason Denmark had ended up standing in front of the Norwegian's hotel room the night before a world conference. She knocked on the smooth, wooden door three times before putting her hands in her coat pockets and rocking back and forth on her feet. She looked over her shoulder to her left, to see if anybody else she knew was out and about in the hallway, but it appeared that everyone else was getting ready to call it a night before the next day's conference got underway. The only other noise Denmark could hear was obvious bickering coming from the Italy sisters, who must've had a room a few doors down from Norway.  
The sound of a lock clicking turned Denmark's attention back to the door in front of her, where a weary-eyed, slightly disheveled Norway now stood. "Hey," Denmark said with a smile, entering her friend's room as the Norwegian moved aside. "So guess what we're doing tonight?"  
"Hopefully it involves sleeping," Norway replied.  
Denmark took a seat on one of the beds in Norway's room, watching as her friend paced back and forth between the mini fridge and the bathroom. The last time Denmark had seen her friend this agitated was during the Norwegian Butter Crisis, which, no matter how seemingly hilarious it was to Denmark, had truly been a tough time for Norway and her people. "Rough flight?"  
Norway stopped pacing and threw her hands down to her sides, slapping her thighs and exhaling deeply in the process. "You have no idea," she exclaimed breathlessly. She resumed her pacing, stopping intermittently to tell Denmark her story. The Dane listened intently, crossing her legs at the knee, knowing that after this, convincing her friend to go dancing was going to be an uphill battle.  
"My original flight was cancelled," Norway started, "There was engine trouble, or something along those lines, so they squeezed me on a flight that had a layover in Italy. It wasn't as ideal as my original flight, which was direct from Oslo to New York, but I'll take what I get." The blonde nation stopped and tossed some of her waist length hair over her shoulder, revealing wide eyes and flushed cheeks to Denmark, whose only thought was that Norway looked kind of cute when she got all worked up like this.  
"So, was this flight on the Italian airline from hell, or something?" Denmark leaned back, placing her hands on the smooth white quilt that covered the bed she sat on.  
The Norwegian just shook her head and returned to pacing and telling her story. "The flight from Oslo to Milan was fine. I had to sit in economy instead of business, but I've been in worse situations." At this, Denmark snorted rolled her eyes, only to get a sharp, "Oh, shut up," from Norway in return.  
"Okay, so you had to fly like normal people do. You've been on viking ships before, for weeks on end. I'm failing to see how this flight left you so worked up."  
"I'm not done." Norway whirled on her heel, snapping to face the bathroom as she continued her pacing. "The nine hours and ten minutes it took to fly from Milan to New York were actually hell. I was sandwiched between an obese nun and a young Italian couple and their baby. Behind me were three cranky Italian men, and the girlfriend of one of them. We hit a bunch of turbulence on the plane, the baby kept crying because of it, the men behind me kept yelling at the parents to make their crying baby shut up, which didn't help anything, and whenever I went to close my eyes, the nun would start lecturing me about how I wasn't really traveling along because God the Father is always with me, or some shit like that." Norway stopped and threw her hands up in the air, looking at Denmark as she lowered them back down. "I only go to church on Christmas and Easter, and it's not even a Catholic Church at that!" She paced a bit more as Denmark nodded sympathetically before adding, "Oh, and to top it all off, Iceland's not here yet, I have no clue where she is, and there's no coffee machine in this damn room!"  
Denmark had to fight the urge to laugh at her friend's current state. Not much could frazzle the cool and steady Norwegian, who rarely spoke, even to her friends. However, when she did get worked up, it was as if all the words she'd kept to herself in the past came out all at once in lively, long winded rants. Despite the distress Norway was in, Denmark loved seeing her friend so animated and lively. It reminded her of how she looked when she danced; free and happy, as if all of her earthly problems and cares had dissipated.  
This thought reminded Denmark of her original purpose.  
Jumping up off the bed, Denmark shuffled over to her friend, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "You know what will make you feel more cheerful?"  
"A good, full night of sleep?"  
Denmark swung her arm off of her friend's shoulder, grasping her shoulders instead and keeping her friend at an arm's length. "A night out dancing! Think about it! We're in Manhattan! There's such a wide array of clubs, and bars, and Iceland's not even here yet, so you don't have to spend the night big-sistering her to death! What do you say?"  
"No," Norway dead panned, her face reverting to its typical, stoic state.  
"It's a great idea! A few shots, some loud music, you won't even remember the flight here!"  
"I'd like to actually be able to function when the inevitable shitstorm goes down tomorrow."  
"Oh, come on! It's not like we're going to get anything done anyway!"  
"Denmark, I said no." Norway wriggled out of the slightly taller nation's grasp, and moved to her suitcase instead. "Besides, I have to figure out what I'm wearing, and what time I need to get up to shower and do my hair, and I have to unpack my makeup..." She trailed off, pulling at zippers on her bag until all of its compartments were completely open.  
Denmark fell back upon her last resort. "I'll buy you coffee." Norway stood up pin-straight, dropping the items she had been holding back into her bag. Denmark decided to elaborate. "I'll pay for any amount of coffee you want, from any coffee shop you want it from."  
"Give me fifteen minutes to get ready." Norway ran her long fingers through her hair, turning to look from her bag to the bathroom, and then at her friend. "Write a note for Iceland telling her where we went."  
And so twenty minutes later, the pair stood on a street corner, Norway clutching a large, hot cup of black coffee in an ungloved hand as the streetlight illuminated the swirling flurries of snow above their heads. "So what now?" Norway took another sip of her coffee, staring out into the Manhattan traffic.  
"Well, I heard from America that there's a really cool club just down the road from here, and I could really use some alcohol right now." Denmark rolled back and forth on her feet, practically jumping into the crosswalk as soon as the light changed.  
"Ah," was Norway's only reply as she raised her eyebrows before quickly lowering them.  
Denmark excitedly grabbed the hand with which Norway was not holding coffee and practically dragged her to their destination. The line wasn't too long, but the music was loud and the people were laughing, which was how Denmark liked it. Even from outside, the music was clearly audible, and much to Denmark's pleasure, Norway's foot was already tapping. It was as if the music infected her and took over her body like a parasite, forcing her to move at its will. The only time Norway truly expressed herself was when she was dancing.  
Before Denmark knew it, they were inside. "I'll get us a table," was the last thing Denmark heard before she made a beeline for the bar. Watching Norway dance was great, but alcohol undeniably made the experience even better.  
When Denmark finally tracked down Norway, she had draped her coat over a chair, revealing the form fitting dress she had been hiding underneath. The dress was rather simple, really. It was all black and strapless, with slits along the sides at the thighs. It clung to the Norwegian's hourglass figure like it was custom designed for her, and in Denmark's opinion, it made Norway look like a goddess.  
Denmark looked down at her own dress, which was only slightly visible under her unbuttoned coat, and frowned a bit. Her dress was similar in style, but blue instead of black, and with a single strap instead of strapless. She felt it was probably a bit too tight around her hips and stomach, but anything bigger would've been too loose around her barely-existent chest. Wishing not for the first time that she had been blessed with bigger breasts, she made her way over to her friend, her mug of beer in hand.  
Norway crossed her arms raised an eyebrow at Denmark as she approached. "You tell me that we're going dancing, and then you buy beer like you expect to sit here all night drinking?"  
Denmark could feel blood rushing to her cheeks. "Well, I really can't dance, but I know you love it, so I figured we could both enjoy ourselves tonight."  
"What do you mean, you can't dance?" Norway blinked once, shifting her weight to her other leg. "We've been dancing for centuries."  
Denmark grimaced. "No, you've been dancing for centuries. I'm a terrible dancer."  
"Nonsense," Norway replied, taking the beer from Denmark's hand and placing it on the table. "Take off your coat, and let's dance." Denmark did as she was told, laying her jacket out over the chair and letting the Norwegian guide her onto the dance floor. As Norway started to dance, Denmark mimicked her movements, ending up doing what she assumed to be a clumsy imitation of modern dancing. She just couldn't get her movements to look as flawless as Norway's, no matter what she tried.  
Eventually, frustrated and confused, she gave up. "I just don't get it," she said finally. "Aren't you embarrassed to be dancing with someone like me?" Norway tilted her head to the side a bit, prompting Denmark to continue. "I mean, when you dance, you look ethereal. When I dance, I tend to knock things over. To be seen with me has to be embarrassing to you!"  
"Stop beating yourself up." Norway shook her head. "You're dancing is fine, and I'd be more embarrassed to be seen entering with someone as attractive as you, only to then be seen dancing by myself. People would think something's wrong with me, or that I wasn't good enough for you."  
Denmark stared at the Norwegian, who was still dancing. Was she for real? Did someone slip some alcohol in her coffee? Stunned, the Dane wondered what could possibly lead Norway to say such things. Not good enough for her? Was she blind? If anything, Denmark was not good enough for her.  
Instead of conveying all these thoughts out loud, Denmark simply came out with the eloquent reply of, "what?"  
Norway stopped dancing and walked up to the motionless Dane, meeting her gaze with those deep indigo eyes that held the power to melt hearts of ice. Something in them caused Denmark to leap into action. She was practically stumbling over her words now, trying to explain herself. "I mean, you're gorgeous, and you wouldn't have to dance alone, you could get literally anyone in here to dance with you. They'd say yes in a heartbeat. I'm just me."  
Norway stared into Denmark's eyes, leaving Denmark with a vague sense of drowning. The next thing Denmark knew, Norway's hand was on her cheek, and her lips were on hers, guiding her into a kiss that the Dane had been dreaming about for longer than she could remember. Denmark wished she could extend time, to make that kiss last for an eternity, but unfortunately, after mere moments, it was over.  
"Damn, I have to buy you coffee more often."  
Norway smirked and exhaled a quick, short breath through her nose. "Yes, please do. Oh, and for the record, I'd rather dance with you than even the most experienced dancer in this room." With that, she grabbed the Dane's hand and started dancing again, easing Denmark back into the rhythm of the music.  
Denmark could feel her smile bursting from ear to ear as she let Norway's movements guide her own. It was unbelievable to her that after all this time, after all the dances Norway had shared with talented people full of grace and beauty, the one partner she had really hoped for was Denmark herself.  
"I wonder what everyone's going to think of this," Denmark commented.  
Norway smiled a bit, spinning once before replying. "You're wondering too much. For now, let's just dance."


End file.
